


Kiss Me, You Animal

by evermillion



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Frottage, Language, M/M, Violence, sexual encounter of dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3923041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evermillion/pseuds/evermillion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghoul thought he had wanted nothing more than to beat Party senseless (and he supposed he had succeeded in that), but things inevitably always ended back here... Frank intended to make Party remember this. The older man often needed to be put in his place, and he was long overdue for a humbling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me, You Animal

**Author's Note:**

> Work posted to my LJ a long time ago, when I was writing a bunch of dustverse stuff.

“You fucker!”

Ghoul stumbled backwards until his hands were supporting him, palms down on the hot metal of the TransAM. His face was still averted, and his jaw throbbed in the aftermath of the blow. It took him a moment to look back at his leader, and when he did, there was malice plain in his eyes. His tongue went out to collect the blood that had seeped from the corner of his mouth, but he remained silent as Party Poison shouted at him.

“Next time I fucking even think you're going disobey my orders, I will not hesitate to put a laser in your leg, you got that, Ghoul?” Party screamed. His voice reverberated off of the cloudless blue sky above. In the distance, Kobra Kid ushered a concerned Grace into the gas station along with Show Pony. Jet Star alone remained outside, his arms crossed. He looked worried.

“Party, take it easy, everything worked out fine.” he murmured.

Party turned his gaze on Jet Star, and another angry spark flared up inside Fun Ghoul when he saw Party's anger diminish at Jet's word. Always listening to his right hand man...

“This time, yeah,” Party spat, and looked back at Ghoul, “But what about the next fuck-headed stunt you pull, huh Ghoul?” he asked, and gestured over at Jet. Ghoul didn't have to look again to see the stained bandage that peeked out from beneath Jet's shirt.

“This time, Jet barely got grazed, but if you go rogue again, what'll it be next?” Party asked, and lowered his voice. He got dangerously close to Ghoul, and the air practically crackled between them.

“You going to get Kid blasted next time?” he hissed, “Or maybe Gracie?”

Ghoul snapped his dark eyes to Party's, enraged.

“Don't you fucking dare-”

“Or maybe it'll be me, huh?” Party interrupted, and shoved Ghoul lightly in the chest. The slightly shorter man felt his hackles rise.

“Party,” Jet called, exasperated.

“Go the fuck inside.” Party replied, never taking his eyes off of Ghoul's.

The two men heard Jet release a heavy sigh, and then the swing of the gas station door as he disappeared behind it.

“Is that it, Fun Ghoul?” Party murmured close to his face, “Wanna take a swing at the leadership position?”

Fun Ghoul, despite his every attempt to remain cool up to this point, felt a swelling in his chest. Party Poison always knew how to push all the right buttons, and he knew how to do it so fucking well.

“Oh, but don't you think you're going about it too slowly, Ghoul?” asked Party. He stepped back with a crooked grin on his face. “It'd be so much easier to just hand me right over to Korse. Why not just try that?”

“Fuck you, you self-satisfied son of a cocksucker,” Ghoul finally shouted back, and he pushed the other Killjoy backwards so hard that he almost fell. “You're fucking ridiculous, you know that?” he snapped, and his fists clenched at his sides.

“Who's the one with the fucking inferiority complex, Ghoul?” Party shot back, “You always have to lead the charge, even when you don't have the fucking brains to back it up!”

Fun Ghoul had had enough. It was his turn to hit back. Party was lying in the dirt before he knew what had happened.

“Maybe I wouldn't have to make rash decisions if your leadership was worth more than the number one spot on a fucking wanted poster, Poison!” he said, and placed a scuffed boot in the center of Party Poison's chest. “I honestly don't see why Korse sees you as such a threat. Take away your blaster and your car, and you're just a little fucking kid, playing around in the sand,” he spat.

Party Poison grabbed his leg and flung him off, and Ghoul was sent sprawling.

“Yeah?” Party retorted, his face wound tight with anger, and less obvious hurt, “Well good to see you taking the initiative to end the resistance effort with your suicidal bullshit. Next time you try and get yourself fucking killed, do it yourself, _Frankie_.”

Party had turned to return to the Dead Pegasus, and in an instant, he found himself face-down in the sand, a heavy weight on his back. Immediately, he swung back with his elbow, which connected with the side of Frank's head. Stunned, Fun Ghoul slumped to one side, one hand springing to his head.

Party Poison was up again, but he wasn't headed back for the gas station anymore. He hauled Fun Ghoul up by the front of his jacket and flung him against the scalding hood of the TransAM. Party struck him across the face once more, which seemed to actually bring Ghoul back to his senses. Fun Ghoul suddenly grabbed one of Party's wrists and yanked him back down beside him onto the heated metal. With his free hand, he grabbed a handful of Party's shock-red hair and slammed his head down into the hood of the car. A spray of blood decorated the American Widow as blood vessels in Party's nose broke. Dazed, he struggled to regroup, but Ghoul used Party's temporary lull to his advantage.

Fun Ghoul gripped one of his leader's shoulders and flipped him onto his back. With incense fueling him, he pinned Party down and pulled his fist back. He hit him once, twice, three times in the face, so hard that he felt his own knuckles bruise. Ghoul was about to deliver another blow when the butt of his own ray gun connected sharply with the side of his face, pulled from his holster.

He saw his gun tossed far away, and in the corner of his eye, caught a flash of yellow as Party began to pull his own.

Deftly, Fun Ghoul knocked Party's gun out of his grip and wrapped a hand around his throat in one swift movement. The metal groaned loudly as Ghoul forced Party Poison's head back against the hood.

For a moment, there was a pause in the violence. Both men were breathing raggedly, and their blood mingled on the scorching surface of the car's hood.

Party's face was a mess of blood. It spurted from his nose and ran in all directions down his pale face. It blended at his jaw with the remnants from his last dye job. His throat worked against Ghoul's grip, and his gloved hands were wrapped around Fun Ghoul's assailing arm but didn't seem to be doing much good.

Ghoul found himself panting, his vision searing at the edges with how angry he was. Party could just be such a motherfucker at times, and sometimes Ghoul wanted nothing more than to pummel his pretty fucking face.

“-k... Fran... k...” Party was choking, and his boots knocked weakly against Fun Ghoul's shins. His back arced off of the hood as he struggled to get air into his lungs. Frank watched the display with a certain degree of... excitement.

“You're a fucking pain in my ass, Gerard,” he muttered, and leaned in close. At this proximity, he could detect even the faintest scents off of his fellow Killjoy: the cheap alcohol, the TransAM's leather seats, and the sweat and sand of the midday desert. The iron smell of blood seeped into it all. It was fitting, but Ghoul found that he didn't like it.

He bent down and pressed his lips against Gerard's. He forced his mouth apart, force-fed him the air he needed so badly. Party Poison's back twitched, and his hips twisted slightly on the edge of the hood.

Party groaned, and one of his knees knocked into Ghoul's thighs in protest. It stopped when Ghoul's grip on his neck tightened.

Gerard made a choked sound and his eyelids fluttered as the lack of air started to get to him. Finally, Ghoul loosened his hold, but by that point Gerard was too dazed to retaliate.

Frank pulled back to look at his disheveled leader, and licked the salty blood off of his lips. Gerard's lips shone with saliva and blood, and lured Frank back in. Ghoul thought he had wanted nothing more than to beat Party senseless (and he supposed he had succeeded in that), but things inevitably always ended back here.

His blood still singing with anger, Frank's hands clawed down the sides of Gerard's body. He reached up with one hand to unzip the other man's jacket and pull it down to snare his arms. On his own, under normal circumstances, this would have been easy enough to get out of, but right now, Party could barely lift his head off of the hood.

“Fra... nk...” Gerard muttered faintly.

Ghoul's eyes drifted to the empty windows of the gas station. He wondered if anyone had been watching – if anyone was watching now. He wondered if anyone would try to stop him, if they knew.

Party Poison's breath caught in his throat when one of Ghoul's hands moved to grind against the hardness that had developed under Party's dusty jeans. His back arced again with a moan as Ghoul palmed his erection mercilessly. The heat between his legs intensified with the friction, and his body temperature rocketed. The intense sun above and the hot metal of the TransAM under him didn't help, naturally. Ghoul chuckled breathlessly as the sweat began to roll off of their bare skin.

“You like that, fearless leader?” he panted. Gerard banged his head lightly on the hood, and he shook it back and forth with a grimace on his face. But all the pushing he was doing back into Frank's hand betrayed how he honestly felt.

Frank intended to make Party remember this. The older man often needed to be put in his place, and he was long overdue for a humbling.

While still continuing his ministrations with one hand, Ghoul leaned down and closed a portion of skin on Party's neck with his mouth. It was in a very visible area, not easily covered up. He sucked the patch of flesh practically raw, and when he pulled back, a large purple ring stood out amidst the red and white of Gerard's neck.

Gerard's protest was bitten off into a shout of pleasure as Frank's attentions on his erection doubled, and he was rubbing him fervently through his jeans. Frank leaned down by Party's ear, and said, through his leader's escalating moans:

“You may be the leader around here, Gee, but when you look at that, you don't forget who you fucking _belong_ to.”

He then ground against Gerard one last time, and the Killjoy went over the edge. The back of his head struck the TransAM's hood, and his hips jerked up as he came with a shout. Frank clutched Gerard's body close to his as the other man came in his jeans. He glanced over at the windows of the gas station, and smirked into Gerard's sweat-soaked hair when he saw the shape of one of his comrades at the window. Who it was, he couldn't quite be sure. As long as it wasn't Grace, he didn't really care.

At some point, Gerard had finished moaning and panting into Frank's shoulder, and when Frank realized this, he let go of the other man.

Gerard slumped back onto the hood, and he steadily fixed Ghoul with an irritated glare. Fun Ghoul merely smirked at him.

“I promise it won't happen again, Party Poison,” he said, a little too loudly to only be speaking to Party. It took Gerard a moment to realize he was talking about his renegade stunt earlier, the incident that had started this skirmish. “It's your word over mine, next time.”

He lowered his voice and winked at Party.

“That should more than make up for my breach of boundary. Now clean yourself up,” he said, and walked off, wiping blood from his lip as he meandered a little crookedly back towards the Dead Pegasus. He felt lighter than he had in a while.

Behind him, Party sat up slowly. He cringed as he shouldered his jacket back on. A harsh blush still covered his body, especially as he fingered the interior of his stained jeans. He then reached up and touched the patch of tender skin on his neck. It was strange that of all his injuries, that seemed to burn the most intensely of any of them.

“Fuck,” he murmured to himself as he slid off the hood of the car. He looked over towards the gas station, to where Fun Ghoul was now smoking a cigarette.

“Cocky bastard,” muttered Party Poison, “I'm going to have to make sure to hit him twice as hard next time.” he said, and climbed into the TransAM to clean off in peace.


End file.
